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Alone in the dark... by Jeff Ryan
October 29th 3003 Jeff Ryan has been reported dead for sometime when his shuttle enroute to Castor to take up the position of Captain of the CSS Menusa was destroyed. Ryan is unaware of this and awakes to find his fortune has taken a definite turn for the worse. I woke up in the darkness, a slight concious flicker telling me I was alive, almost as soon as there was conciousness, there was light, then what felt like a jab, I slid back into the darkness of a dreamless sleep. I woke up again, the pain had faded to a dull ache and slowly my conciousness returned. The last thing I remember was saying goodbye to Raisa, boarding the transport, taking my seat in the VIP section of course, the new Captain of the CSS Menusa travels first class. Then nothing. I opened my eyes, then tried to open them again to be sure I'd done it right the first time. Darkness. I waited until I felt more myself, waiting for some more memory to come back, visions of my life, from childhood, the resistance, the politics, anything and everything from the past, but nothing to help me with my present. Was I dead? I wondered. The pain convinced me otherwise, if I was in heaven there wouldn't be any and if I was in hell it'd be a damn sight worse I reasoned. Slowly I started to feel more normal again, more myself. Hesitantly, I reached out with my hands and legs, at least to get some idea of the dimensions of my enviroment. I found nothing. Then I started patting myself down, realising my nice new uniform was now torn in several places, and there was blood, I winced as I touched my left shoulder, one of the sources of the pain. I could feel two more, but I'd always been able to put up with pain, I locked it into a place in my mind and ignored it. My hand went to my holster, nothing. It was beginning to look like I had been in a fight and I'd been taken prisoner, but that was only conjecture at this time. I had to admit the evidence was convincing. I tested each of my limbs in turn, one at a time, but not making any obvious movement. My left arm seemed to be having some problems, and my right thigh had a slight grazing wound, none of my wounds were life-threatening but I felt battered and bruised, which was annoying. I still had no idea where I was, and I still couldn't see a damn thing, but my vision was there, there was a subtle difference in the black when my eyes were closed and when they were open, difficult to describe. I began to feel hungry, one moment, nothing, then my stomach started growling ferociously, it needed feeding. With my right hand I checked the pockets of my jacket and trousers. Nothing, I had absolutely nothing with me. No weapons, no food, no water, no PDA. No PDA! Bugger, I hope the kid's encryption held or everything I'd built could fall into the wrong hands. I raised myself to my feet cautiously, expecting any moment to meet a low ceiling, nothing. I was feeling better, more sure of myself. I was wounded, but alive, on my feet again. It was a simple victory, but made a great psychological impact. I tried to use my left arm again, it was working, but slowly, moving it too quickly brought the pain out of it's little box in my mind, but I knew nothing was broken. With my right hand outstretched I took stock of my new home. It turned out to be a small room, I'd been dumped in the middle. I almost fell as my leg made contact with what turned out to be a small cot. The room was flooded with light, temporarily blinding me, I didn't see who'd come in, but at least now I knew where the door was. Nobody said anything, and as quickly as it had arrived the light had gone, I was alone again. I made my way over to the door, taking care in reaching out near the floor. I found my light plastic tray, with a light plastic plate and a light plastic cup, nothing I could use as a weapon. The cup contained water, the plate some unidentifiable tasteless rations, this gave me no clue as to my captors. One or the other had something else added, half way through my meal I began to vomit, I kept vomiting for a long time, retching long after the contents of my stomach had been emptied. I felt weak, lying in the dark unable to move. The only thing that filled my existence in that moment was the wrenching pains in my stomach and the stench of my own vomit in my nostrils. Category:OtherSpace Stories